


Once bitten, Twice shy

by pretense



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Community: rotg_kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-23 22:28:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/627207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pretense/pseuds/pretense
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't obvious at first; if it was, Jack Frost would very likely not find himself in his current predicament. Fact of the matter is, and take this as literally as you ever will, everything happened behind his back.</p><p>Fill for the RotG Kink Meme. Prompt <a href="http://rotg-kink.dreamwidth.org/1511.html?thread=1467623#cmt1467623">here</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once bitten, Twice shy

**Author's Note:**

> I realize the title sounds a bit like it should belong to fic with a more mature rating but rest assured this is going to be a fluffy one.
> 
> Originally posted [here](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8882094/1/).

An occasional odd shiver wasn’t something that Jack found to be worth a second thought. Being a spirit of winter, he lived in the joy of arctic weather. Then there was the feeling of somebody watching but every time he looked over there was nothing suspicious to be found. Usually, it was just the kids – his believers – enjoying themselves with the snow he’d brought with him. But as the winter months thawed out onto spring, Jack couldn’t quite shake off the feeling that something wasn’t exactly right.

There was a constant ill feeling plaguing the back of his mind. He kept trying to catch who or whatever it is that’s been tailing him, for he was rather sure now that it wasn’t just his imagination.

How else would you explain the children giggling and pointing behind him? Yet every time he whipped his head around to look he was met with nothing but his rather plain shadow. It may have been just a prank by the kids but how would that explain a whole different bunch of them doing the exact same thing a whole ocean over. The little ones didn’t look worried about it, though, so Jack usually shrugged it off and continued their snowball fights, spreading fun and laughter and bringing the children’s attention away from the unexplainable.

Lately, though, the experience started to become more… _real_.

He would sometimes find random objects popping up behind him. One second he’d be leisurely strolling around, and in the next there’s a _thump_ behind him – a bouquet of jonquils and rosebuds even though there’s no flower shop nearby, a polar bear plush toy looking out of place at the wet market, one of those singing cards with the high-pitched midi looping track drawing the attention of passersby. Aside from that, there was this strange sensation that kept brushing against his back, particularly his nape. Jack was honestly starting to worry that if he’d turn his head to catch whatever it was one more time he’d actually break his neck.

Worried, and a little bit paranoid, Jack called the wind and flew himself to higher regions. The chilly breeze caressed him almost lovingly, alleviating his worries for the duration of the long flight. Jack landed on the roof-deck of a three-story house overlooking a park. The place was already heavy with snow leaving him little to work with, which was good, really, because he didn’t actually go there to do his work; quite the opposite. It was nighttime and the place was deserted, no real sign of life save for yellowish glow of the iron lamp posts below. In spite of this, the winter spirit felt peaceful with the waxing moon and infinite stars watching over him. Dragging his shepherd’s staff along the floor, Jack walked through the frosted landscape finding it a little easier to breathe now that he’d escaped the –

His bare feet faltered mid-step as if something grabbed them, an unseen force stilling him from the inside. His arms were next, joints locking up as a pointed rush made for his fingers. The sudden uncontrollable twitch of the digits around his staff almost made him drop the weapon.

It all lasted for a second but that had been the final straw.

“What…?” Salt-and-pepper brows knitted together as Jack brought his faulty hands up close, a deathly grip keeping his wooden instrument attached. Planting his feet firmly on the snow-dusted floor, Jack turned his whole body around, a glare already in place. “Alright, who’s out there?” he called, threat echoing in the empty air. “Show yourself!”

No one answered his demands but the achingly familiar _thump_ brought his eyes towards the floor. Sure enough, a new object had shown up lying in his shadow – a rectangular container with a clear cover showing off its contents: a dozen caramel-swirled bonbons. Through the previous instances had been nowhere near confrontational, Jack couldn’t help but be weary of the package. He prodded it with his staff, frost patterns instantly bloomed on the lid but other than that, nothing.

Jack huffed, bottom lip protruding in a pout as he debated on what to do with the thing. He was no idiot, he knew what the combination of flowers, stuffed animals, cards, and chocolates meant to humans, especially the teenaged ones, what Jack didn’t understand was why they were apparently sent after him. ‘Sent’ not given, because the latter would imply that the objects were handed over; they were dropped behind him in an almost careless manner. By this point, Jack had drawn his conclusion for the charade to have been a prank. By who? Well, he was going to find that out.

Eyes the shade of winter blues scanned the roof-deck for a sign – footprints, a trail of breadcrumbs, any disturbance in the snow, evidence of shed body hair or fur or feather or scale or whatever. Jack ran the length of the place, even looking down to check if there was anyone looking up at him from the sidewalk, waiting to serenade him (at this point, he wouldn’t put it past his quote, unquote _admirer_ to do just that). What he found (and sincerely wished he hadn’t in hindsight) were shadows.

With his back to the moon, Jack watched as the box of chocolates dropped into the lengthened shadows cast from his own body. His cheeks frosted over and there was a prickling iciness that spread inside his chest. Finding himself immobile in shock, Jack’s gaze wandered up from his shadow on the floor to the wall of a corner structure enclosing the stairwell going to the roof.

His fears were confirmed at the unmistakable sight of the Nightmare King’s shadow, but Jack found out just as quickly that those fears were going to be doubled, tripled, quadrupled – hell, he’d lived more than three centuries and still nothing could have prepared him for the sight.

His shadow was leaning against his shepherd’s staff propped upright, legs crossed, face turned towards Pitch who was holding up a shadowed copy of the chocolate package with the lid gone, seemingly offering them to the other.

Jack snapped his gaze away for the briefest of seconds to confirm that yes, he was still holding his staff with both hands; yes, he was still standing with one foot forward; and yes, his shadow was actually moving on its own.

What. The. Hell.

Returning his gaze to the wall, Jack wished that he hadn’t. Witnessing the play with his own two very much functioning eyes, Jack felt his throat dry up, which was no good at all, considering.

The darkened replica of himself picked out a bonbon from the box, examining it in an exaggerated way that involved cocking his hip to the side. His head inclined upwards as though he was meeting the other shadow’s gaze and Pitch’s hand made motions for him to taste the confection. The flat and featureless duplicate of the Guardian of Fun twirled around his staff, grin imminent, and he popped the sweet into his mouth. With the revolution coming to its close, Jack’s shadow pushed himself up and kissed the Nightmare King full on the lips. Pitch swooped in eagerly, his free hand finding the shadow Jack’s neck and pulling him closer.

From his place a few feet away, Jack felt a lingering brush at his nape and it didn’t take a genius to realize what had been happening all along.

To be fair, Jack had no shame in owning up to the (manly) screech that tore through the night.

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!”

His shadow counterpart jumped away from its kissing partner, ending up on his ass on the ground with the staff clattering beside him. Pitch’s shadow stumbled back a few steps, his gaze alternating between the real Jack and his dark, two-dimensional copy. Then he straightened up, shoulders squared with a dignified stance and Jack’s shadow hastened to his feet, moving to copy Jack’s position but the winter spirit was having none of it.

“Explain yourselves!” Jack shrieked, gripping his staff as he would in battle and pointing the crooked end towards the shadows. “Get out of there, Pitch. And you,” he directed the staff at his shadow. “Don’t you dare hide out on this one. You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

“Allow me.” Velvety and dark, Pitch Black’s tone was appeasing. He materialized from the shadows with a regal grace, eyes the dark allure of an eclipse. “Good evening, Jack.” Pitch looked the same as ever, fully recovered as though his defeat meant little to him.

The winter spirit pushed down the greatly misplaced excitement that lit up his nerves. It’s been a full year since he’d last heard of the Nightmare King. No sign of Pitch was felt in the surface world, save for a few stray Nightmares trotting in dark alleys by their weak lonesome. Guilt had wracked the newly-installed guardian – the sincerity in Pitch’s words during their confrontation in the Arctic was never lost on him – and Jack found himself on more than one occasion dropping by the then non-existing portal to the Boogeyman’s lair. Not once had he found a trace of the Boogeyman, not a wisp of the dark aura lingered, and Jack left with the weight in his chest growing ever heavier. Then the ominous feeling crept upon him and Jack’s worries about his former enemy were banished to the back of his mind to give way to more pressing matters.

“What is this?” Jack asked, staring at the full-fledged form of the Nightmare King. “I… I thought you were…” He didn’t want to say _gone_ , not when he fully believed Pitch when he said that fear could never truly be vanquished. “Your Nightmares turned on you” is what came out instead.

An amused slant lifted the Boogeyman’s thin lips. “Believe me when I say that I am touched, truly, by your concern.” He moved towards the younger spirit, gliding across the floor until they were face to face. The way Jack’s eyes widened up at him, staff lowered by an inch, softened his gaze upon the boy. “But I believe that story is for another time… Now about your shadow and I…”

Intricate snowflakes bloomed over Jack’s cheeks at the mention. He’d been so overwhelmed by Pitch’s physical presence that he’d forgotten the reason he’d called him out in the first place. “Right,” Jack lowered his staff a little more, deferring his eyes to his guilty counterpart who appeared to be cowering behind his shepherd’s crook. He shot the shadow a look of betrayal, growing confused when the reply was an open-palmed shrug.

“We were a bit busy when you’d so kindly interrupted us,” Pitch spoke in a private tone, dark humor lighting up his eyes.

“Busy?” Jack rounded on the older spirit with an incredulous look. “You were playing tonsil hockey with my shadow!”

“Don’t sound so scandalized,” Pitch rolled his eyes at him. “I had his consent.”

“ _Consent_?!” Jack sputtered, mouth hanging open as he noticed vigorous nodding from the topic of their conversation. “He’s my shadow! That’s practically _me_!” Pitch snorted at that, leading Jack to start shouting defensively. “And I – I certainly do _not_ recall giving any sort of twisted consent for things like that to happen!”

“How juvenile of you to think that,” Pitch smirked bemusedly. “You forget that I, too, am sovereign of the shadows. I am Lord of Darkness and all creatures therein.” His exclamation was punctuated with his arms spreading  out in a grand arc, body turning around and gesturing at the subdued hues of the night. Eyes turned to Jack’s shadow, he moved his hand so as to cradle the immortal teen’s face in his palm.

Jack stared in horrified shock as his shadow leaned into Pitch, sagging like a love struck preteen. “Get a hold of yourself!” He shrieked at it, embarrassed like never before. Jack the shadow made exaggerated motions of a sigh, throwing up a hand like he was tired of hearing the debate.

“Oh, I know, darling,” Pitch murmured to the shadow incarnate.

The term of endearment had Jack feeling weirdly constricted, particularly around the chest. Unintelligible noises of complaint gurgled out from his throat as he shifted his disbelieving gaze between his shadow and Pitch. His shadow swooned at the pet name and Jack stomped his foot at it. “Hey! Cut it out!”

“Come now, Jack, we weren’t doing anything wrong.” Pitch sent a smile at the shadow on the wall who had taken to holding his hand.

Looking at the affectionate display made Jack feel a different kind of cold. He opened his mouth to counter Pitch’s argument but found nothing of substance to reply with. His shadow sidled up to Pitch, laying his head on the shadow of the taller spirit’s shoulders. The sight brought a look of conflict upon Jack’s youthful face, lips pursing and throat closing up as an emotion he didn’t want to name bubbled inside him. In a small voice, Jack finally broke his silence. “Why _him_?”

Pitch took his time turning his gaze of tarnished gold upon the winter spirit. He was admittedly taken aback at the open display, gone was the carefree grin and daring edge in those eyes. A pitiful expression took their place and Pitch could already tell where the boy was going with his questions. It was no task holding back his sympathy. “Why _not_ him?”

The statement was met with heavy silence. An icy breeze twisted its way around them, chilling the tense air between the two spirits.

He knew a bait when he saw one. Jack had been the victim of the Nightmare King before and the consequences had been severe, he would do best not to fall for it again but… Pitch’s eyes betrayed nothing, only a smug little curl at the corner of his lips and Jack gave up the moment his thoughts strayed towards the fact that just a few moments ago those lips were on his shadow. Jack shivered, clutching his staff close to his chest as the answer rang clear in his head.

“Why not _me_?”

Pitch smiled, the same triumphant grin that shone bright even under the cloak of shadows. He swooped in but stopped a hair’s breadth away from the youngest Guardian. Up close, he could see a vivid red color on Jack’s pale cheeks hidden by the dusting of snow. He placed his hands on the boy’s waist, feather-light and tentative. Blue irises patterned like a snowflake gazed up at him, thin lips slightly parted as Jack breathed out, posture relaxing slightly.

Jack expected his heart to be rioting, hammering with enough force to break out of his ribcage, but his insides felt suspiciously still. His eyelids lowered as Pitch’s face drew nearer, moving close in sync with his inhale until their lips touched. It was a brush of a kiss serving like a preview for something more but then Pitch was already moving back, looking extremely pleased with himself.

“Apologies, Jack, I forgot myself for a moment,” Pitch murmured, eyes alight with something secret. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I’m not complaining!” The words rushed out of Jack’s mouth before he could stop them and he was left with a useless hand covering his lips while one foot scratched the heel of the other.

“That you aren’t,” Pitch stated with a hint of a laugh. “But allow me to ask you a serious question now…”

Jack straightened himself up, curiosity piqued and lips still tingling. “Sure.”

“Would you like to accompany me to the Austrian Alps?” The question came with a hand offered palm-up.

“Austria?” Jack blinked at the idea. “That’s kind of far… What’s there to see?”

The look Pitch gave him was a shade patronizing but his tone was rather fond. “I personally find the place to be a breathtaking sight worthy of a first date.”

It was comical, the way Jack’s eyes widened. “A – A date? You mean… Me and you? On a date?”

“If you’re up for it.” Pitch inclined his head as though he was leaving the final decision to the younger spirit.

The slow spread of a smile revealed teeth as white as freshly fallen snow. A spark of excitement enlivened the immortal youth and he eagerly placed his hand in Pitch’s. Then he froze, staring at their clasped hands like he couldn’t believe it. A fair dusting of snowflakes powdered Pitch's hand where Jack came in contact with him but the Boogeyman showed no sign of pulling away; rather, he tightened what had begun as an unsteady hold. Jack looked up at the Nightmare King, feeling a little bashful but not entirely repentant of his overzealous action. “So we’re going on a date, huh?” Jack began swinging their hands, body rocking back and forth on his heels as he tried to contain himself.

For an answer, Pitch spread out the shadows at their feet, creating a portal to their destination.

Unnoticed by both spirits, Jack the shadow did a little fist pump just before the darkness engulfed them all.

**Author's Note:**

> For the curious ones, [this](http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2012/05/pictures/120515-best-earth-sky-pictures-2012-comet-milky-way-space/#/best-night-sky-pictures-2012-night-lights-austria_53112_600x450.jpg) is where Pitch took Jack for their first date.
> 
> A bit of [floriography](http://www.languageofflowers.com/flowermeaning.htm), Jonquils mean ' I desire a return of affection' and Rosebuds symbolize a confession of devotion.
> 
> My Beta said they fell in love too easily but I never claimed for this to be a love story of epic proportions. Besides, I like starting out sweet on my first fics for a fandom...


End file.
